


Everything is Color Now

by UnabashedBird



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Friendship, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnabashedBird/pseuds/UnabashedBird
Summary: In which we remember that friendship, telepathy, consent, and walking briskly are things that exist.And that Quentin and Eliot love each other and definitely both live to have that conversation and be happy and nothing else matters.





	Everything is Color Now

**Author's Note:**

> Me and half this fandom, writing a lil fix-it for everything that bothered/enraged me about 4.12 and the finale. When the PTB won't give us catharsis, we give it to each other!  
> Definitely borrowed little idea snippets from the other fix-its I've been mainlining as I wrote this, thanks fandom!  
> Title is from the Through Juniper Vale song of the same name.

Alice leaned in for a kiss and Quentin pulled back. “As _friends_ , Alice. I want you in my life as my friend. I mean let’s be honest here, the other thing was never very good for either of us, was it?”

“Oh. Right. No, you’re right. I. Sorry.” She turned away.

“Sorry if I led you on. I wasn’t trying to.”

 

“No, it’s me, I got caught up. I’m still figuring so much out, some old patterns die hard, I guess.” She looked back at him. “But I do want to be friends again, Q. So I hope I didn’t ruin that, just now.”

“No, of course not. C’mere.” She let him pull her in for a hug.

“It’s Eliot, isn’t it?” she asked when they separated. “You haven’t said it, but it’s obvious. The way you talk about him, it’s like when I was a niffin and still stuck in your tattoo. You don’t just love him, you’re _in_ love with him.”

“I don’t wanna . . . I mean that’s not why I don’t want to be with you, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, it’s not what I mean. I just mean . . . it’s OK to say it out loud, Q. I don’t know why you haven’t, it’s not like you’re being subtle.”

“I just can’t, OK? Not before he’s back. I don’t want to say it to anyone else before I say it to him.”

 

"Look, it's not a big deal, alright? Sometimes we bang. He makes me laugh, and I like having him around 'cause of the aforementioned banging, and he just, you know, he kinda gets me, so what? It's not like I'm in love with Josh Hoberman."

"It kind of sounds like you are, though."

"Wow. That explains a _lot_."

"What do you mean?"

"Honey, that's not love. It could be, eventually, if I was that kind of woman, which I'm not. Bitch with the ice axes, all the way. But anyway, being in love with someone is more than just friendship and lust, all right? I mean geez, no wonder you and Quentin were such a trash fire. No offense."

"It's OK, you're not wrong. But for whatever it's worth, coming from me, you can be in love and still be a bitch. I mean, Josh has stuck around this long, right? So maybe he's that rare person where you can . . . can catch feelings while still being unapologetically you. Just something to think about."

"Huh."

 

"Still, the Binder replied, stating the obvious to the strident female, someone needed to choose for Julia."

"Yeah. Julia," Penny said, and closed his eyes and _went_ and thanks to everything that happened to her in the last few days he shredded her wards like they were nothing and found her in an undefined dreamscape.

"Hey."

"Oh. Hi, Penny."

"Look, I'm not sure how long they can keep you under, so I'll just get straight to the point--"

"The Binder needs to know which way I want to go."

"Yeah. So what do I tell him?"

"I still don't know."

"Unfortunately, that answer isn't going to work any more. You have to choose."

"I know. It's just hard." She blinked, looked down then up at him. "What's happening out there? Do they need goddess power to get the rest of it done?"

"That can't be what decides it for you."

"Like fuck it can't, which I take it means _yes_ , so—“

“No, fine, you’re right. But the Binder said going the goddess route would be a 'long, arduous journey,' so you still wouldn’t be able to help with the monsters any more, at least not with raw power.”

“Shit. OK. Shit.”

“Julia.”

“Shut up and let me _think_."

Julia closed her eyes, and Penny waited.

Her eyes opened. "Sorry, Penny. I know it's not what you want to hear, but--"

"Goddess. Got it. Long as you're OK, and you choose, that's what matters to me."

"Thank you." She pecked him on the cheek, and then he's back in his body, telling the Binder which way to take her.

 

"I think that, um, you should tell me where the Seam is so that I can do it," Quentin told Alice.

"Why you? Because I'm better equipped to--"

"Because I want you to be safe."

"I want you to be safe."

They both sighed.

"We're doing it again, aren't we?" Q asked, thinking of their earlier conversation, what Alice said about why she tried to kiss him.

"Old habits. The whole saving each other thing, and the results have been mixed at best. I've been thinking about what you said before, and I think we work better as a team. So let's do this together and save the multiverse. And Eliot."

"Hell yeah," Margo said, striding by with the axes over her shoulders.

 

"Well, when you put it so sweetly, Bambi, hmm?"

Eliot's voice was soft and Q almost didn't hear him but it's all he could do not to sob with relief and maintain focus on the spell. "Penny!" he yelled.

"Q?" he heard Eliot say, but then they were gone, and in a blink Penny was back to take him and Alice to the lab so they could finally end this.

_Eliot Eliot Eliot Eliot_ thrummed through Quentin. He knew that what’s important was throwing the monster bottles in the Seam as quickly as possible so they didn’t escape, but what really pushed him to hurry hurry hurry was Eliot and his need to be by his side.

“ _Fifty years. Who gets proof of concept like that? Peaches and plums, motherfucker_.” Even if it didn’t mean what Q thought it meant, it’s Eliot, and he loved him, even if El only ever wanted to be friends. Friends with Eliot was far from a consolation prize. Friends with Eliot was finding out that magic was real and he could do it.

So when they got into the Mirror World and Alice stepped forward tentatively, he practically shoved her. “Alice, go.” She whipped around to glare at him, but something in his expression got through to her, because she picked up the pace to a brisk, purposeful walk.

She showed signs of hesitating again when they reached the door, so Quentin pushed past her and sprinted across the room to the covered mirror, Penny quickly catching up and helping him remove the tarp. As soon as he saw the strange darkness, he knew they’d found it and threw in the monster. He turned and Alice was there, so he stepped out of the way and she threw in the sister.

“OK, now out before we have company,” Alice said, but it’s just _Eliot Eliot Eliot_ guiding Quentin’s pounding feet as they sprint back to the mirror that would take them home.

Quentin thought he heard shouting as he leaped through, and even though _Eliot_ thrummed through his blood he skidded to a halt, waiting to see Alice and Penny safe.

It's only a moment, but it's longer than it should have been, when they burst through and something shattered the mirror from the other side. "What the hell?" Q asked, momentarily distracted.

"Everett," Alice said. "I took care of it. Now come on, let's go see Eliot." And she marched out of the room.

Quentin glanced at Penny, whose eyes were wide. "Remind me to _never_ get on her bad side," is all he said.

"Yeah." They did it, they're safe, _Eliot Eliot Eliot_.

"Here," Penny says, and Traveled them straight to the infirmary waiting area, where Margo was pacing.

She looked at them, wild-eyed, then bolted through the door to the main infirmary. "Drop the spell, you fucks!" Q heard her screaming. "They're back, drop the spell! Go fix Eliot! Go, before I start using my axes! Nobody else do any more magic, all the ambient left is for _Eliot_ , you hear me?"

Margo stalked back out, and he could see the burst of adrenaline drain from her as she collapsed into a chair, looking pale and haunted. He sat next to her and took her hand. "Say anything stupid or trite, Coldwater, and I swear to God I will end you."

He tipped his head back against the wall. "I would never," he reassured the ceiling.

"No, I guess you wouldn't." He could feel her eyes on him.

"What?" He's so tired, and it wasn't over yet. He tried not to think about everything a lifetime of reading fantasy had taught him about gut wounds and how bad they could be.

"He's gonna be OK. We're not gonna lose him now, no way. That's not how this goes."

Quentin turned to meet her eyes, and wondered if his face was as anguished and exhausted as hers. Probably. "He's hung on this long. He's not gonna let go now. I mean, we both know how much Eliot would _hate_ dying of an ice axe to the gut. Not suave at all."

Margo didn't laugh. "Oh, shit, Margo, I didn't mean--"

"No, it's OK. I know what you meant." She squeezed his hand, and they waited.

 

Hours later, they both shot to their feet at the same instant as Professor Lipson emerged into the waiting area. Quentin was vaguely aware of the others who had drifted in over time, taking up the vigil. "He's going to be okay," she reassured them. "He's pretty out of it, and it'll be a long recovery, but barring complications he'll be back to his old self at the end of it."

"Can we--?" Q started to ask, but Margo was already moving, dragging him with her without waiting for permission.

"Just make sure you let him rest!" Lipson called after them, clearly knowing the futility of trying to stop Margo.

Eliot was so pale and still, lying there in the hospital bed. They pulled up chairs on either side of him. Quentin was afraid to touch him, like maybe if he did this whole reality would shatter and Eliot would be gone and nothing would be fixed, but Margo scooped up one of Eliot's hands and held it up to her face. "Hey sleeping beauty. We're here. You take all the time you need, except not too long, because being without you sucks ass."

He still felt like he couldn't touch Eliot, but also like he needed to climb into the bed and curl around him, as much of him touching as much of Eliot as possible, and if he didn't he'd crawl right out of his skin and float away. He finally settled for a hand on Eliot's upper arm. "Margo's a little impatient, but what else is new?" he leaned in to whisper in Eliot's ear. "You take as long as you need. We'll be here."

Margo glared at him, but there was no real bite to it. "You look like shit, you know."

"You don't."

"Good boy."

"Stop flirting, I might get jealous." Eliot's voice was hoarse and groggy, but definitely, beautifully his.

"Margo's actually banging Josh, if you can believe it," Quentin said conspiratorially.

“And is he treating my Bambi the way she deserves?”

“Would I allow anything less?” Margo said, but her eyes were wet and it’s not nearly as imposing a statement as it usually would be.

“Tears? For little old me?” Eliot pulled Margo’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Shut up, you fuck. You scared me.”

“Sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Damn straight.”

Eliot turned to Quentin and something in him snapped because it was Eliot, really Eliot, looking up at him and his hands went over his mouth and he folded in on himself and everything he’d been holding in tore out of him in great, wracking sobs.

“Q!” Eliot reached for him, hand landing on his head and petting his hair with a quiet desperation. “Q, hey, no, it’s OK, I’m OK, I’m here, shh honey, shh.” He went on like that, but Quentin could barely hear him, barely feel him, he was barely in his own body even as it shook like a leaf.

There’s a scraping sound and then Margo was there, crouched next to him. “Q, sweetie, you need to breathe, OK? Can you just try and breathe for me? Because you’re freaking Eliot out, and I don’t think that’s good for him right after major emergency surgery. So I need you to get ahold of yourself for now, all right?”

“No, Margo, it’s OK,” he heard Eliot say as he took big gulping gasps of air and crashed back into himself. The tears still fell, but the shakes and sobs were beginning to get under control.

“Sorry,” he managed, sitting up and wiping helplessly at his eyes and nose. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lose it like that. I’m just . . . El, I’m so fucking happy to see _you_. Sorry we couldn’t come up with anything less damaging than axes, though.”

“Q,” was all Eliot said, and something in his voice made Quentin scoop Eliot’s hand out of his lap and press it to his cheek. Eliot closed his eyes, and when he opened them they were wet. "I guess Bambi isn't the only one who missed me.” He took a deep breath, then flinched. "But who wouldn't miss me, I'm fabulous."

"Yeah," Quentin managed through his tears, not letting go of Eliot's hand. "Yeah, you are."

"I'm also about to fall asleep again, sorry about that. It's been a bit of a day."

"You do that. We'll be here," Margo reassured Eliot, running a hand through his hair from where she had reclaimed her chair.

"Mmm," was all Eliot said before his eyes fluttered shut and he was asleep.

“You OK, Coldwater?” Margo asked, not looking away from the steady rise and fall of Eliot’s chest.

“Y-yeah,” Quentin said, using his free hand to dig a tissue out of his pocket so he could mop up his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lose it like that. I’m just,” he took a deep breath. “I’m so fucking happy to see him.”

“You and me both.”

They shared a small smile and settled back in their chairs, each holding one of Eliot’s hands.

 

Eliot had to stay in the infirmary for a week—the Monster hadn’t exactly been taking care of his body, even if Quentin had convinced it to lay off the substance abuse, and then the gut wound on top of that, plus all the fun psychological aftereffects of being trapped in his own head for months, needed a lot of rest and medical attention.

Quentin and Margo were there every morning as soon as visiting hours started, and stayed until the Healers kicked them out every evening, with the others filtering in and out with food and updates on everything going on.

Once Eliot was alert enough, they gave him the CliffsNotes on what had happened while he was possessed, on Earth and in Fillory. He had a feeling they were leaving out a lot of details, both because they were trying to spare him and because those were for more private conversations than the infirmary afforded.

Eliot thought about asking for a private word with Q on the second day, then decided that he owed it to Q to wait until he could have this conversation properly. He was so tired, and his abdomen hurt, and Q kept showing up without being asked and that had to be a good sign, didn’t it?

On the third day, when Margo booted Quentin out to go get them some food, Julia slipped in, as if she’d been waiting.

“Margo, can you give us a minute?” she asked after claiming Q’s seat.

Margo raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, OK. I’ll be right outside.” She sounded a little skeptical, but went.

“Hey,” Julia said.

“Hey?”

“So, I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through, but I can tell you the way you’re relating to that bed is not unknown to me,” she said with a little smirk.

“Ha ha."

“Also that’s not entirely true, since, you know, monster boy decided I would be a good fit for his sister.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Definitely not your fault. And it wasn’t for nearly as long as it was for you, so the point stands.”

Eliot didn't know what to say to that. “I thought they said you were going all goddess-y again?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna take some time. Ooh, here, maybe I can—“ she held her hands out over his abdomen and closed her eyes. There was a golden glow, and for the first time since he’d regained control of his body the pain faded to almost nothing. He sighed in sweet relief. “It won’t last—I’m not strong enough for a full healing yet. But I’ll get there, and if you aren’t better by then, I’ll help.”

“Which is great, but also, I’m getting the impression, not entirely why you’re here?”

“You’re right. I just wanted to make you feel better before I maybe made you feel worse.”

“Well, that's encouraging.”

“Q is my best friend, and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. You’ve got Margo, so maybe you can relate.”

Eliot nodded. "Let me stop you right there. Once I'm out of here, Q and I are gonna have a talk, and if there's one thing I've learned from all of this, it's to stop wasting time, no matter how scared I am."

"That's great, but . . . please be careful. The last few months haven't been good for him, mentally, and I'm worried about what happens when the crash comes. I think you know how he is when he has a quest, but now the quest is over, and I just need everyone in his corner for if things get bad, OK?"

"I am nothing if not in Q's corner. Always."

"Good. Tell him that. Soon. But, you know, be prepared for--"

"A potentially incongruous reaction. I'm familiar. Have them myself, sometimes."

She smiled. "I know you and I never really got to be friends, but I'm glad you're back."

"Maybe now we'll get the chance."

"I'd like that, I think. I know Q would."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Eliot looked at Julia, considered saying what was on his heart--that he'd do just about anything to make Q happy, and becoming proper friends with Quentin's bff was nowhere near the unpleasant end of that spectrum. But that wouldn't be right, to say it to anyone else before he said it to Q.

Julia was looking at him like she understood exactly what was going through his head. "So. I'll just. Tell Margo she can come back in."

"You could stay, if you want. Regale me with your adventures."

" . . . OK."

 

When Quentin returned with food, he was pleasantly surprised to find Julia sitting with Eliot and Margo, finishing up a detailed account of the mummy incident. She stayed the afternoon and it was the happiest Q had been in a long time, even if Julia did insist on describing the dragon egg fiasco in embarrassing detail.

"I think he really cares about you, you know," Julia told him that night. They were back at the Physical Cottage, having wine up in Q's old room, away from all the boisterous students. It felt so unreal, that this place where he and his friends had researched and planned to save Fillory, save magic, save Eliot, save the multiverse, was still filling its purpose as student housing for the biggest partiers on campus. Eliot would be proud.

"No, I know. We're friends. I think he's probably my best friend, after you."

"Sure, but that's not exactly what I meant.”

“Why, did he say something?” Q asked slowly, a little tingle of hurt starting at the edge of his awareness.

“No, no, but it kinda seemed like he was thinking it. You know, the way you seem like you’re thinking it every time you look at him or talk about him or—“

“OK, Jules, geez.”

“Sorry. I just want you to be happy, especially after these last few months. Or, not just that. After, I don’t know, everything. I know your brain makes it hard for you to be happy, so anything that makes it easier for you to tell that part of your brain to piss off, I want that for you. That’s all.”

He smiled at her, feeling his eyes go a little misty. “Thanks. I . . . yeah. I’ll, I don’t know, I’ll talk to Eliot. Once he’s out of the infirmary. I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Sure. Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“Have you always liked guys and I just didn’t notice, or?”

“Umm, I don’t know? I mean obviously I’m at least a 1 on the Kinsey, or maybe a 2, but I don’t think I was really crushing on a lot of guys. Though to be fair I wasn’t crushing on a lot of people. Mostly just you. I mean I guess I’ve always noticed attractive guys, just not with the same, umm, intensity? As girls? But, y’know, with the depression and all the hospitalizations and the academic overachievement, it’s not like I was chasing a lot of tail of any kind, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’m not trying to force you to overanalyze and stress about it, I was just curious. It wasn’t what I expected, but, I mean, you would fall for a Fillorian royal,” she teased.

Quentin laughed. “Yeah, I would, wouldn’t I?”

 

On the fourth day the Healers brought Eliot a cane so he could start taking very slow, short walks, just around the infirmary to start with. He looked at the plain stick with distaste.

“Here,” Quentin said, seeing Eliot’s expression, and without thinking he magicked it into an exact replica of the one Eliot used in their old age at the Mosaic; the one Q gave him for his 65th birthday. The one he buried with him.

Eliot blinked, then looked up to meet Q’s eyes. “It’s perfect,” he murmured.

“That’s not what you said last time,” Q ventured, testing the waters.

“Well, last time I was a grumpy old man who didn’t at all like that I needed a cane and you didn’t. This,” he rapped it against the ground, “is temporary.”

“The fuck are you two talking about?” Margo broke in.

“Our other life. The one we lived so we could solve the Mosaic and bring back magic, and then didn’t live because things got very timey-wimey, but we still remember because of aforementioned timey-wimeyness,” Eliot reminded her.

“Oh, of course. That. Uh-huh. Nerds.”

“You did just make a Doctor Who reference,” Quentin teased Eliot.

“Only because you’re a terrible influence,” Eliot said, looping his arm through Quentin’s. “Now, we walk!"

 

As Eliot was getting dressed to finally leave the infirmary, there was an abrupt  _rush_ , and suddenly the world was brighter, more full of potential, almost exactly like the moments after they'd turned magic back on and before the Library intervened.

"Whoa," said Margo, pausing her assistance in getting him into his vest. "You feel that?"

Eliot nodded.

Margo grinned. "Goddamn, I think those hedge bitches did it."

"What, blew up the pipes, let all the magic free?"

She nodded, then turned and stepped around the privacy curtain. "Hey, Lipson! Healers! That enough ambient to fix Eliot properly this time or what?"

It was, as it turned out.

He left the infirmary pain free but with instructions to take it easy. He didn’t need the cane, but he kept it anyway. “I think I might try a walking stick. It matches my aesthetic, don’t you think?” he explained in response to Margo’s arched eyebrow.

She and Quentin escorted him to the door of the Physical Cottage, but as soon as they stepped inside Eliot felt as if the walls were closing in around him, like he couldn't breathe, _out out he had to get out_ and before he knew it he was outside on all fours, dry-heaving into the grass with Margo rubbing his back and Q petting his hair.

"Fuck," he said hoarsely.

"El, honey, talk to us. What was that?" Margo asked, soft and concerned.

He managed to get into a sitting position. "When I was trapped," he explained. "The Cottage, the version in my mind, was my mind palace. The place where I was safe from the other creatures the Monster brought with it when it possessed me. Charlton called it my happy place, and it was. But."

"But going in there feels like being trapped again," Q finished for him. Eliot nodded.

"OK, we'll go somewhere else. No big deal," Margo said, and got out her phone.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not a taxi service?" Penny 23 asked when he appeared moments later.

"It might help your case if you didn't actually show up," Margo pointed out.

"Whatever. Let's go."

And then they were standing in the middle of a _nice_ apartment that Eliot had never seen before. "This is the penthouse you were telling me about?" The others nodded confirmation. "Nice. Spacious.”

“Uh-huh,” said Penny, and vanished.

"So listen," Margo said. "Josh understands that El is my priority, but I do kinda feel like I've been neglecting him, and--"

"And Mama needs the D," Eliot said knowingly.

"I really do," she said, pecked him on the cheek, and left.

Q had his hands in his pockets and was rocking nervously. Adorably. Eliot took him by the elbow and led him to the large sofa. "Let's talk." He sat down.

"Yeah, OK," Q said, sitting beside him.

Eliot opened his mouth, but Q cut him off. "No, wait, let me go first.”

“I really think—“

“Please, El, just let me—“

They paused and smiled awkwardly at each other.

“OK, fine, you can go first,” Eliot said.

Q took a deep breath. "So, here's my thing: I . . . am . . . in love with you. And I tried not to be, I did, but losing you to the Monster really clarified everything and I just can't _not_ love you. I know you said it wasn’t real for you and you didn’t want to try, and I respect that and I’m not trying to pressure you but it’s just important to me that you know. The Monster taking you, not knowing if we—if I—was gonna get you back, it really messed me up, El. And that’s probably selfish, since you were the one who was possessed, but it’s the truth. And . . . I don’t know, what you said when you let me know you were alive, I couldn’t help but wonder if . . . maybe. I don’t know. I’ll be your friend no matter what, because I need you in my life. Because I love you. And I’m in love with you. That’s all.”

“Oh, Q,” Eliot said, and took his face in his hands and kissed him, soft and sweet and thorough. When they came up for air he pressed his forehead against Quentin’s. “You hijacked my speech, you motherfucker. And I’d been practicing.”

“What?” Q looked dazed.

“Yeah, my turn now. Here’s _my_ thing: I’m in love with you. You were so brave, in the throne room, and I was a coward. I was afraid, and I ran. You put your heart out there and I crushed it and there’s no fucking excuse and I wish more than anything that I could take it back, because maybe if I’d just been brave and true like you and said yes the whole clusterfuck could’ve been avoided, because you wouldn’t have felt like you had to stay at Blackspire and I would’t have felt like I had to save you and the Monster wouldn’t have started body hopping. Whatever, that part isn’t maybe the most relevant right now. The part where I love you is. I’m sorry it took all of this to force me to admit it.” Eliot paused for breath, and Q pulled him in for another kiss, hungry and wanting, his hands in Eliot’s hair. “Q,” Eliot murmured into Q’s mouth, and pulled him into his lap.

“El. Eliot.” There were tears on Q’s face as he shifted to press himself against Eliot, straddling him, but, fuck, Eliot was crying too, his body almost shuddering with relief as he held the man he loved and was held in return. “I thought . . . El. God. I was so scared. I was so scared you’d never come back to me and I’d never get to tell you. So scared.”

“So sorry,” Eliot gasped out as Quentin buried his face in Eliot’s neck, nuzzling and kissing and crying and _there_. “So sorry I made you think I didn’t— _ah_ —didn’t love you, didn’t want you, always did always will _Q_.”

Quentin pulled back to meet Eliot’s eyes. “Hey, uh,” Q said, and Eliot couldn’t help it, he reached forward and kissed Q, the memory of their first time at the Mosaic flowing through him. Q smiled against his lips. “Yeah, so, I know you were really excited to wear regular clothes and not a hospital gown, but—“ Eliot was already unbuttoning his vest.

“For the record,” Eliot said as he tossed it aside and began on his shirt, pausing every couple of buttons to kiss Q, “the next part of my speech was about how I totally understood if you’d moved on, and that I just wanted you to be happy, and I hoped we’d always be friends.”

Q shucked his t-shirt, throwing it on the growing pile, and dove back in, kissing Eliot deeply and tugging insistently at his shirt. “Yeah, I don’t know if I’ve made it clear yet, El,” Q paused to say, "but that part is very not necessary. Please finish taking your shirt off. I really need to touch you.”

“Oh, God, me too, Q,” he said, letting Q help him remove the offending garment and then flipping him so they were laying down, Eliot on top. Q started running his hands up and down Eliot’s back, and Eliot couldn’t help it, he just collapsed against Q and nuzzled into his neck, relishing being skin to skin. “I didn’t realize,” he murmured. “No don’t stop,” he added when Q’s hands paused. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to be touched, after being locked away for so long.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you do, because I may literally never let go of you again.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“We could even, I don’t know, take off more of our clothes.”

“Even more perfect.”

 

After, on the bed they'd managed to make their way to, Eliot tried to nestle in to spoon Quentin, but Q gave a little start and flipped over so he was facing Eliot. “Sorry,” he said hurriedly. “I just . . . I need to see you. Umm. The, uh, the Monster was kinda, umm, kinda touchy-feely, so, sorry, I—“

“Q, it’s OK!” Eliot reassured him, stroking his cheek. “I’m so sorry, I can’t even imagine—“

“No, El, you have nothing to be sorry for, it wasn’t your fault.”

"Well, it wasn’t yours either. So we’ll just lay like this,” Eliot hooked a leg over Q’s ass and pulled him close. “And you can see that I’m me and I can feel that you’re here and we’ll both feel better.” Q nodded, and Eliot played with his too-short hair for a few minutes before asking hesitantly, “Was it . . . I mean. Look, you don’t have to talk about it now, but at some point I think I need to know . . . what . . . it did. With my body. Specifically regarding you.”

“Oh. Umm. Just, you know. It really was like a little kid with the powers of a god. No sense of personal space. Dire consequences if it didn’t get what it wanted when it wanted it. I mean, you remember when Teddy was little.”

“Yes, but Teddy was sweet, not a homicidal god-killing abomination. You know, most of the time.”

“They don’t call them the terrible twos for nothing.”

“No they do not.”

“But anyway. It was mostly the fact that, I mean, it was your body, El, but it wasn’t you. So this horrible thing is walking around doing things with your face and your hands and my body knows your body, so every time it got close this part of me would try to relax because, hey, there’s Eliot, we love Eliot, but then also it smelled wrong and walked wrong and I knew it wasn’t you and so it was just this clanging incongruity and a reminder of how much I fucking missed you. Just all the time. Every day.” Quentin was crying again, and he buried his face in the crook of Eliot’s neck, inhaling.

“I can’t even imagine,” Eliot said, rubbing his back. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Not your fault.”

“Mmm, debatable.”

Quentin pulled back. “Eliot. It was not your fault. Please say you believe me.”

“I believe that you believe you. Maybe that’s enough.”

“We’ll work on it.”

Eliot pressed a kiss to Quentin’s forehead. “All right. As long as we never have to leave this bed.”

“Sounds perfect."


End file.
